


Hand in unlovable hand

by goddammit_charlie



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Abusive relationship (obviously), M/M, Mac and Dennis move to the suburbs, Non-Consensual Touching, Some dubious consent, Violence, Work In Progress, gendered slurs, panic/anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:51:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5868265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddammit_charlie/pseuds/goddammit_charlie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am drowning<br/>There is no sign of land<br/>You are coming down with me<br/>Hand in unlovable hand<br/>And I hope you die<br/>I hope we both die</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> I forgot about the fire so they're moving straight from their own apartment to the new house. Based on the glorious No Children by The Mountain Goats.

Mac and Dennis didn't have any furniture for the first night in their new house, having left it to the last minute to organise a rental truck. They ordered Chinese food and ate sitting cross-legged on the floor, sharing a crate of beers and making toast after toast to their new life in the suburbs until they were both pleasantly buzzed. Dennis had brought his mattress over strapped to the Range Rover's roof rack and had refused to share, but as soon as he was passed out Mac climbed in alongside him anyway - not for any kind of gay reason, obviously, but just to avoid sleeping on the bare floor.

Dennis woke up earlier than usual, disturbed by the sunlight streaming in through the windows they hadn't yet fitted with curtains. He stretched with a contented sigh and rolled over, coming face to face with his roommate. Mac was still fast asleep, dark eyelashes fanned against his cheeks and hair ruffled and soft. Dennis watched him for a moment before setting his face into an indignant scowl and reaching out to give him a shove. Mac was a deep sleeper and his only response was to sigh and roll onto his back, snoring gently. Dennis raised himself on one elbow and shook him a little, then curled his forefinger against his thumb and flicked Mac's nose. Mac woke with a grunt.

"Ouch! What the fuck was that for?" he exclaimed, rubbing at his bleary face.

"What are you doing in my bed, dude?"

"Well I _was_ sleeping... I didn't wanna sleep on the floor bro, I would have woken up all stiff."

"I think you did." Dennis let his eyes flicker downwards meaningfully and rolled over to climb up off the mattress as Mac blushed furiously and pulled a blanket across his hips.

When they were both dressed, Dennis drove them to the rental lot to pick up their truck. There was a brief scuffle over the keys before Dennis climbed triumphantly behind the wheel, Mac pouting in a short-lived sulk that lifted as they cruised through the city peering down through the sunroofs of the cars around them.

"We should totally get a truck, dude. A monster truck or something!" 

"Mac, you need to stop being so white trash. We live in the suburbs now, I expect better from you."

"What's white trash about that? I bet there are loads of monster trucks in the suburbs. Commuting would be way easier, you could just drive straight over the gridlocks."

They met the rest of the gang at the old apartment and set to work loading the furniture - or at least, arguing over the best way to start.

"Let's do the big stuff first and then pack all the little bits in around the edges, like Tetris."

"Ugh, I can't deal with hauling sofas and shit right now - why don't we start with some small stuff as like, a warm-up and then move up?"

"Let me just make it clear that I'm not touching anything from Dennis's room. I do not want to stumble across any of the disgusting fetish shit you definitely keep in there."

"Don't worry Dee, I was going to ask you to do the kitchen actually - I don't even know what half this stuff is."

"And you think I do?"

"You're a girl, you got taught this shit at school or something right?"

"Goddammit Dennis, no I did not! What the fuck is this thing?"

"Oh, that's a honey drizzler."

"Seriously, Mac? When have we ever even bought honey?"

Yelling and cursing all the while, the group eventually started getting things packed up. Manual labour falling under the heading of Charlie work, the others felt it was best to let him get on with it for the most part, so their roles mostly consisted of drinking beer and occasionally calling out "you okay there bud?" whenever thuds or shrill screams emitted from the stairwell. When Mac was roped in to help haul a wardrobe down to the truck ("Go and give him a hand with that, bro" Dennis had said, "I don't want it getting dropped, it's mahogany.") Dee sidled up to Dennis with a question.

"So, you and Mac in the 'burbs. You taking the married couple act a step further?"

Dennis frowned, not following.

"Oh come on Dennis. You're literally going to have white picket fences and host barbecues together... with _Mac_."

"Excuse me, but I don't think I'll be taking any judgements from someone who can barely afford the rent on her shitty one-bedroom apartment because she's got no friends to split costs with. Me and Mac are good roommates, and why wouldn't we want to live in a fuck-off huge house with a garden when we can afford it between us?"

"Okay firstly, the reason I can barely afford my apartment is because you dickweasels steal half my pay every month before it even gets to me and secondly, you're total homos."

Dennis smirked around the neck of his beer bottle as Dee flounced off. It amused him how everyone was so caught up on what was gay and what wasn't. As far as he was concerned, he told himself, he was going to have an awesome house complete with a free housekeeper who, if Dennis played the game right, might be useful for blowjobs on demand. Gay or not, that would be a pretty sweet deal.

Their furniture looked sparse and cheap in the high-ceilinged rooms of the new house, but made it feel more like home. Mac decided to cook a celebratory meal for the two of them, and succeeded in producing a perfectly edible pasta dish much to Dennis's surprise. Afterwards they braved the freezing February night to sit on the deck out back, just to revel in the novelty of having a yard. They took a bottle of wine out with them and sat on the steps looking over the neat lawn, passing the bottle back and forth, watching their breath rise in white clouds into the night. 

"There are more stars here," Dennis mused as if to himself. Mac tilted his head back and peered up at the dizzying sky.

"I think they're just more brighter. From like, streetlights or whatever."

"Streetlights?"

"Yeah," Mac's voice was distant, dreamy, and Dennis wondered how much wine he'd polished off while he was cooking. "'Cause they like, reflect the streetlights I think."

"Wouldn't they be brighter in the city in that case?"

Mac shook his head irritably and looked like he was going to explain further, then he lost his train of thought and sighed. He lay back, stretching out on the deck and staring up at the clear night sky. Dennis laid alongside him and they star-gazed together for a while.

"Bro, are you shivering?" 

"N-no..." Dennis let his teeth judder audibly as he spoke.

"Dude, you're freezing! Let's go back inside."

"No, it's okay. I like it out here. You can keep me warm, right?"

Dennis wriggled closer, nestling himself under Mac's arm with another exaggerated shiver.

"Oh, uh... yeah, sure. I'll keep you warm." Mac was not someone who'd leave his bro to freeze, after all. He wrapped his arm around Dennis and rubbed his palm up and down Dennis's narrow bicep, doing his best to share some body heat.

"Thanks, dude." Dennis smiled in the darkness and his eyes glittered as distant and cold as the icy starlight.


	2. Chapter 2

"Does Dennis seem weird to you lately?"

Mac watched Charlie's face anxiously as he waited for an answer. Charlie had been polishing the surface of the bar and he paused, thinking.

"Well, yeah... but he always seems weird. Why?"

Mac tore up the label of his beer bottle and pretended he hadn't heard the question.

"Aren't you guys liking the new house?" Charlie probed.

"No, the house is great. And Dennis is great too... I mean..." Mac flushed and Charlie nodded briefly and returned to his cleaning, waiting patiently for Mac to gather his thoughts.

"He's almost being... _nice_. Like, too nice." Mac finished lamely.

"Maybe he's just happy. It probably suits him, being in that big fancy house." Charlie glanced up at his friend, who was concentrating on his beer label and avoiding eye contact. "Maybe you should... enjoy it. You know, make the most of it while he's not being a dick."

Mac laughed a little louder than necessary. "Yeah, you're probably right. Yeah." He hopped off his bar stool and pushed a hand through his hair with a deep breath. "You're right. Well, I'll see you later."

Mac hurried out, leaving Charlie to grumble and shake his head over the mess of shredded paper left behind.

When Mac got back to the house, Dennis was nowhere to be found. Mac sat in front of the TV with a beer for a while until he realised his mind was wandering so much he didn't even know what show was playing, and made his way up to bed. There had been a lot of fleeting moments from the last week or so that seemed strangely stuck in his mind, and he lay in the dark for a long while replaying some of them to himself... Dennis dropping off-handed compliments ("I like your hair like that", "you been spending more time at the gym, bro?"); a hand lingering on his shoulder for just a beat longer than expected; eyes meeting, so familiar but somehow new and stomach-flipping... and eventually he slept.

He woke in the middle of a tantalising dream - someone had been trailing soft, slow kisses down his neck from ear to shoulder, one hand raking fingers through his hair just firmly enough to tug a little, the other sliding up under his shirt, roaming his waist and abs and up to his chest. He woke with a sighing half-moan, reluctant to surface from the delicious dream, and for a moment he was relieved when the sweet warm mouth continued its caresses. Then his brain kicked in and he pulled away in alarm, flailing out at the darkness to push away his unseen bedmate. 

"Ssshhh," a familiar voice soothed, "relax, baby boy."

" _Dennis?!_ "

A hand found his arm, stroked his skin tenderly as he tensed and leaned away.

"What the fuck, Dennis? What are you doing?"

"I want you. I want to show you..." Dennis's voice was rough and unsteady, and Mac could smell tequila on his breath.

"You're wasted, dude. Go to bed - your own bed." He swallowed dry-mouthed, and Dennis heard the quiver in his voice.

"Are you sure? I mean, I'll go if you want me to, but..." Dennis leaned closer again, cupping Mac's chin in one slender hand and feeling the pulse racing in his neck. He felt Mac gulp again, but there was no pulling away. "I can make you feel so good, baby boy. Let me make you feel good."

Mac could feel hot breath against his cheek, and he tried to think of anything else, anything but the unbearable sweetness of that mouth on his neck. He told himself to leave, _now_ , jump out of bed and run, but he couldn't bring himself to move. The hand that held his chin began to slide round to bury itself in his hair, gently pulling him forward, and he couldn't resist this any more than he could've resisted an earthquake or a forest fire. The unstoppable force of nature, unspeakable natural disaster, Dennis Reynolds, drew him in to a kiss that burned away the last of his defences. Mac allowed himself to sink back into the waking dream.

The next time Mac woke, sunlight was streaming through the window and he was alone in his bed. For a moment he wondered if last night had been a vivid, impossibly hot dream - but glancing down at his naked body he noticed a scattering of grazes and bruises that could only have come from nails and teeth, and the unmistakeable blush of a hickey blooming on the soft skin of his inner thigh. His head was whirling, confused and thrilled. Had Dennis really been in his bed, leaving those incriminating marks? He was getting hard again at the memory. He was almost dreading having to face Dennis, half convinced that it would all turn out as a joke at his expense, but he was also desperate to look him in the eye and know for sure that last night hadn't been a hallucination. After a few deep breaths in a hopeless attempt to calm his cartwheeling stomach, he pulled on underwear and shrugged into a bathrobe before making his way downstairs.

"Hey bro, sleep well?"

Dennis's greeting was casual, but his eyes danced and his lips still looked pink and puffy from grazing over Mac's skin. Remembering that those lips had been wrapped around the shaft of his cock just hours ago sent a jolt through Mac like an electric shock, and he sat down abruptly at the breakfast table before his knees could give way. Dennis smiled indulgently across the table, pushing a cup of coffee over to him. Mac raised his hands to lift the cup, realised how much they were shaking and thought better of it. 

"Wh..." Mac's voice was dry and hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What was...?"

"Last night?" Dennis suggested, raising an eyebrow. Mac flushed and lowered his gaze to the tabletop. He heard Dennis's chair scrape back, and bare feet padding over to stand behind Mac. Dennis placed his hands lightly on Mac's shoulders and lowered his mouth (that beautiful, filthy mouth) to Mac's ear. "I thought it was about time. We should have started doing that years ago."

He smirked and left the kitchen, heading upstairs, leaving Mac to squirm in his seat as goosebumps ran up and down his spine from the breathy whisper. When he had himself under control enough to think straight, Mac considered Dennis's words. Two decades of guilty longing, furtively jerking off to the sound of his roommate fucking some nameless chick, repenting for his sinful urges, believing Dennis had no idea and would run a mile if he knew... two decades of desperate, fawning adoration... two decades of self-loathing and lust... and all that time Dennis had the same idea? All of a sudden, the morning's fear and shame was melted away by a fizzing thrill of excitement. They had a lot of lost time to make up for.

The shower was running when Mac came upstairs, and wisps of steam were curling from the bathroom door which had been left slightly ajar - an invitation, perhaps. Mac couldn't contain the grin that spread across his face as he slipped into the steam-clouded bathroom and hastily shed his robe and boxers. When he peered around the shower curtain, Dennis was rinsing shampoo from his hair - face angled up into the water, eyes shut tight. Mac paused to savour the sight of his naked roommate, enjoying the taut ropey arms, smooth chest, narrow waist, soft little ass and slender thighs all glistening as trickles of water traced every line and curve. He hopped in behind Dennis and joined him under the water, wrapping his arms around him from behind and pressing his chest against Dennis's back.

"Hello baby," Dennis purred, unperturbed by the sudden company. He tilted his head back and Mac eagerly pressed his mouth against the long white throat exposed for him. He felt Dennis's Adam's apple bob under his tongue, worked his way down to explore the perfect little hollow above his sternum, back up again to nip at his ear and meet his swollen pink lips. Last night's gentle caresses had been incredible, but today Mac was ravenous, making up for twenty years of starvation. He whipped Dennis round and pinned his back against the slippery tiled wall, tongues deeply entwined and teeth bumping against lips in clumsy fervour, wet hair tugging and tangling between fingers. Mac's hands swept down Dennis's back, his nails leaving grazes that made Dennis gasp against his mouth, and he clenched a fistful of Dennis's ass in each hand and let out an animal growl that rumbled down through Dennis's body and turned his knees to rubber so that Mac's tight grip on his ass was the only thing holding him up off the floor.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ" Dennis gasped between kisses. He had not been expecting this. Overwhelmed, it was all he could do to hang on as Mac slipped a thigh between Dennis's legs, grinding and rolling his hips against him like a dirty little club slut until Dennis was whimpering helplessly with every thrust. Dennis had thrown his arms around Mac's neck and he held on tight to keep himself from sliding to the ground when Mac removed one hand from supporting his ass and shifted position so that he could take both of their dicks in his palm together. It only took a couple of firm strokes to bring Dennis right to the edge.

"Oh my g... _fuck!_ " He was almost sobbing by the time he came, his whole body juddering, sweat mingling with the shower water on his skin. Mac was close behind, planting his mouth against Dennis's in another desperate kiss as he felt the tide building and sweeping through his body, biting down hard on Dennis's bottom lip as the crest broke over him. Afterwards they leaned against one another, panting and trembling, both tasting metallic blood in their mouths.

"Shit," Mac breathed shakily, raising a hand to touch Dennis's bleeding lip, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

Dennis laughed weakly and sank to the floor of the shower, legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned back against the wall.

"Don't sweat it dude, I think that was more than worth it."


	3. Chapter 3

After they'd finally finished showering and got dressed, Mac and Dennis headed to the bar to start the day's "work". Dee was opening up when they got there.

"Did someone split your lip?" she asked Dennis. "Who were you pissing off this time?"

Dennis slipped a sideways glance at Mac and smiled. 

"He did it to himself," Mac blurted out hastily. "He... he tripped, and bit his lip."

Dee looked at the two of them for a moment, then shook her head. Whatever was going on there, she did not want to get involved.

"Whatever, dumbass." She turned away and carried on stacking glasses on a shelf.

"Sorry bro, I panicked," Mac mumbled, but Dennis grinned at him.

"It was a good save. We don't need that bitch knowing every detail." He winked and Mac blushed, smiling down at the floor.

Charlie and Frank turned up an hour or so later and the five of them sat around the bar, drinking and chatting as they waited for some customers to show up. Mac and Dennis sat next to each other and every time their knees touched, or their fingers met when Mac passed Dennis a fresh beer, or Dennis patted Mac's arm to get his attention, Mac felt like sparks would crackle brightly at every touch. He felt like the rest of the gang must be able to see some kind of evidence in the way he sat, the tone of his voice, the way he and Dennis looked at each other. He tried to make himself relax but the more naturally he tried to act, the more false and rigid his demeanour seemed to get. If any of the others noticed anything strange, they didn't mention it. 

As the afternoon lengthened, customers started trickling in - almost all regulars, settling down for their nightly routine of getting wasted alone. Paddy's seemed to attract this particular clientele. Dee disappeared, maybe to her open mic night, maybe back to her apartment, none of the others really cared. Charlie took Frank down to the basement to show him a door he'd discovered that he was convinced must lead to a secret tunnel (it was an old broom closet, jammed shut when the wooden door got warped last time the basement flooded, but nobody wanted to rain on his excitement). Mac was behind the bar idly wiping out a glass when Dennis slipped behind him on the pretext of fetching some more limes, and squeezed his ass playfully as he passed by. Mac almost leapt out of his skin.

"Dude! What the fuck?" he hissed, too shrill to be particularly quiet. 

"Relax, man. Nobody saw. They wouldn't care if they did." Dennis reasoned, indicating the sparse collection of oblivious drunks that made up their evening crowd. 

"Charlie and Frank could've been right there..."

"I'd hear them coming up those creaky-ass stairs from a mile away. Don't _worry_ so much," he murmured, placing a hand on the inside of Mac's thigh just out of sight under the bar.

Mac shook his head and took a step back. "I don't... not here..." he mumbled. "Please. Not here."

Dennis shrugged and turned away. "Fine." He went into the back office and closed the door.

Mac didn't see Dennis again for the rest of the evening. When his shift ended he went to the office, tapping on the door before opening it, and Dennis wasn't there. His car wasn't outside either - he must have slipped out when Mac wasn't looking and gone home. Mac headed for the bus stop, feeling like a lead weight hung in his chest. Had he already fucked this up? Why did he have to get so pissy over a little show of affection? He wished he wasn't such a fucking asshole. 

Seeing the Range Rover on the driveway as he approached the house gave Mac mixed feelings. He was glad Dennis was home, he hated not knowing where his best friend was and he wanted to make sure everything was okay... but he was dreading the blank stares and long silences Dennis would barricade himself behind if he was still irritated. Mac let himself in, glanced into the living room and kitchen - nobody there.

"Dennis?"

"Up here."

Mac followed the voice to Dennis's bedroom. He knocked tentatively on the closed door.

"Come in."

Dennis was lying on his bed reading, and he put the book aside and smiled as Mac entered. A towel was wrapped around his angular hips, and his hair was damp and softly curled. Mac stared openly at his body, everything he'd been planning to say whisked from his head like smoke on a breeze. Dennis stood up and crossed the room towards Mac. He tilted his face down, looking almost shy, and raised his eyes to meet Mac's beneath soft fair lashes. The bashful expression was undermined by a slow, wicked grin. He reached out for Mac's hand and led him over to the bed.

"I know I was a sulky bitch today. I just... want to be like this with you, all the time." Dennis spoke between kisses that left Mac reeling and barely listening to his words. "Will you let me make it up to you? I've been getting ready while you were at work."

He pulled back a little to look Mac in the eye, awaiting an answer.

"Ready?" Mac repeated dumbly.

Dennis put his lips against Mac's ear, making him shudder. "Ready for you," he breathed. "I want you to fuck me."


	4. Chapter 4

For a couple of weeks, Mac was the happiest he could remember being in his life. He loved living in a big house with a garden, in a quiet neighbourhood where people smiled and waved at each other. He loved cooking proper meals for Dennis and seeing the surprise on his face when they actually tasted good. Most of all, of course, he loved the new relationship they shared. He could still hardly believe his luck every time they touched - they were getting to know each other in a whole new dimension, becoming intimately familiar with every inch of one another's bodies. He'd been inside Dennis, felt him writhe and spasm beneath him; he'd choked on his dick, let the hot bursts pour down his throat and thanked Dennis for the privilege; yet his stomach still cartwheeled with fluttering excitement at the most innocuous touch of hands. It wasn't all sunshine - Dennis was still Dennis, and Mac was still wrestling with guilt when he considered what God would think of him, but it was altogether as close to domestic bliss as either had ever been remotely close to.

On the day of their first monthly dinner since the move, Mac felt giddy with joy and anticipation. How many times had he sat in that restaurant, with its candles and violin music, gazing across the table at Dennis and trying not to fantasise about the texture of his tongue against Mac's own, or the smoothness of his skin against Mac's lips? Now he didn't need to use his imagination to know what every part of Dennis felt like and tasted like, and the thought of enjoying their traditional evening out after all these new experiences between them was thrilling. 

He chose his outfit carefully, trying to put aside his usual bad-ass style in favour of something more classy that he thought Dennis would like. He found a short sleeved button-down shirt, crisp and smart, that must have found its way to him from Dennis's wardrobe at some point (it just about fit him, a little snug but not so tight as to make the buttons strain, although the sleeves did cut into his biceps uncomfortably when he moved). He knew Dennis didn't like the navy pants he normally wore so he tried to find some black slacks, but he didn't seem to own any, so he settled for a fairly smart pair of dark blue jeans. He wondered if this was too casual, and dug out a slim forest-green tie to wear with the white shirt to class it up a bit. Finally he combed his hair back, slicking it down with the greasy oil he'd first started using when he took his father's bottle after Luther had gone to jail.

Dennis took just as much care over his appearance, choosing a cornflower blue shirt to make his eyes pop and re-doing his makeup three times before he was satisfied. When he was ready he made his way downstairs and was surprised to find that Mac wasn't there waiting - Dennis was always the one holding them up while he made last-minute adjustments, so this was unusual. 

"Mac? You ready babe?" he called back up the stairs.

When Mac appeared, Dennis wasn't sure whether to laugh or throw himself at him. He looked a little ridiculous, undersized shirt buttoned all the way up to squeeze tightly around his neck as if the tie was choking him, arms bulging against the sleeves, carrying himself straight-backed and rigid like a nervous freshman at his first high school dance. On the other hand, the way the shirt clung to him showed off his hard body, tugging a little across the chest when he took a deep breath so that glimpses of skin and fine hair were visible behind the buttons, and the tightness around his biceps certainly highlighted how much he'd been working out recently. When Mac swallowed anxiously, Dennis saw his throat bob and strain against the restrictive collar and tie, and for a moment the thought of pulling that tie tightly around Mac's bare neck until he choked and gasped purple-faced for mercy made his knees wobble momentarily. He grinned at Mac, a slow crooked grin with darkly glittering eyes. A dangerous grin.

Mac shuffled nervously as Dennis moved towards him, wondering if he was going to laugh disdainfully and tell him to get changed, but as he drew closer Dennis's eyes softened. He reached up and raked the fingers of one hand through Mac's hair to ruffle it, while the other hand dextrously unfastened the first two buttons of his shirt and loosened the tie a little. Then, fingers still entwined in Mac's hair, he drew him in for a deep kiss.

"Perfect," Dennis breathed when they separated, looking Mac up and down with his wolfish smile. Mac licked his lips, tasting the sugary gloss that had smudged from Dennis's, and smiled back.

At the restaurant, Dennis slipped the maître d' a couple of folded bills for a nice table, set back in a quiet corner where they could be mostly unobserved. Mac pulled Dennis's chair out for him, playing the gentleman, which made Dennis laugh and his eyes sparkled with the closest thing to warmth that Mac had seen from him. They sipped red wine, rich and smooth, while Dennis browsed the menu and ordered for both of them. After the waiter had hurried off, Dennis raised his glass in a toast.

"To our monthly dinner. To us!"

Mac clinked his glass against Dennis's.

"To us!"

He drank and set his glass back down on the table, fiddling with it restlessly. Dennis watched as Mac ran his fingers up and down the slender stem of the glass. 

"I love this new us," said Mac, still toying with his glass.

"We're not new. Just enjoying what we should have been doing all along."

"Yeah, but I mean, I love that we get to come here _together_ rather than just... together."

Dennis chuckled and shook his head as Mac fumbled for words.

"I know what you mean. It's great," he said.

He reached across the table until his fingertips met Mac's and let his hand rest there, as if he just needed to be in contact even by the barest touch. Mac's heart fluttered anxiously at the thought of everyone in the restaurant seeing, but he slid his hand forward and brushed his thumb over Dennis's. For a while they said nothing, sharing a comfortable silence and toying with one another's hands. 

When the waiter appeared, approaching silently over the carpeted ground and clearing his throat politely to announce his presence, Mac snatched his hand back as if scalded, his face burning scarlet. It was one thing to hold another man's hand in this quiet corner where the other diners had no reason to be looking at them, but a lifetime of denial and self-loathing had left well-worn instincts that took precedence over his conscious mind when faced with the idea of letting someone see this display of affection. He stared down at the table until the waiter had set out their plates and left. When he finally forced himself to raise his eyes, Dennis was watching him with his mouth narrowed and hard eyes. 

"I'm sorry... I..."

Dennis's icy glare stopped Mac in his tracks.

"It's fine." Dennis said finally, voice stony and clipped. "I mean, I guess I just thought after the last few weeks you might actually have the balls to stop lying to yourself and everyone else, but maybe that was naïve of me."

Mac opened his mouth to say something, anything, to defuse the situation and bring the warmth back to his friend's eyes, but he couldn't find the words. He lowered his eyes again, horrified by the heat that was beginning to prickle in them - _you are not going to fucking cry_ , he warned himself furiously.

"Really? You're not even going to look at me?" Dennis didn't raise his voice, but something in his tone made a few people at nearby tables glance over uncomfortably. "Okay. This is how you think it's going to be, is it?" He spoke more loudly now, and more eyes turned towards them. "You want to be able to fuck me at home and not even meet my eye in public, is that what you'd like?"

Serving staff were beginning to hurry towards their table as murmurs spread through the room.

"Sirs," the closest waiter began, "this is a family establishment, I'm afraid if you continue to use language like that..."

Mac wasn't going to wait to get thrown out. Still keeping his eyes downturned to avoid Dennis's glare as hot tears beaded against his eyelashes, he stumbled to his feet (knocking his chair over with a clatter that ensured anyone who hadn't already been staring would be now) and fled for the door.

Bursting out onto the sidewalk, he didn't stop to consider where he was going. He put his head down and marched as fast as he could without breaking into a run, desperate to get far away from the accusing eyes and Dennis's rage. His chest heaved with gasping sobs, and he hadn't gone more than a block when he started to feel lightheaded and was forced to stop walking and try to catch his breath. He leaned against a wall, trying to concentrate on the texture of the cold bricks pressed against his back, and tried to take deep breaths, but his head was spinning and no matter how desperately he gulped down lungfuls of the cold evening air he still felt suffocated. _Am I dying?_ he wondered as he sank down to the pavement, sitting against the wall and drawing in huge open-mouthed gasps. The thought of dying with Dennis hating him, never having the chance to put things right, made the tight feeling around his chest clench harder until he thought his heart would stop. He fumbled frantically at the buttons of his too-tight shirt which strained across his chest with every gasp, undoing them and leaving the shirt fluttering open across his bare torso. It felt like hours that he sat there, hands over his face wet with tears, heaving for breath. He coughed and retched, wiping his running nose on the back of his arm. Slowly, impossibly slowly, the cold fingers squeezing his chest began to release their grip and each breath came slightly easier. He began to shiver, becoming aware of the ridiculous state he must look, hunched down on the cold sidewalk bare-chested in a thin short-sleeved shirt. He pulled the shirt around him, clasping his arms across himself and not bothering to fasten the buttons. When the icy night made his teeth begin to chatter and his nail beds started to tinge with blue, he climbed to his feet and started walking again.

He thought about heading to Paddy's or spending the night at Charlie's place, but he couldn't bear to face anyone and hyperventilating had left him exhausted and longing to climb into his own bed and never surface, so he made his way to the nearest bus stop to catch the night bus back to suburbia. 

As soon as he got home he shed his clothes, so carefully selected just a couple of hours earlier, and crawled beneath his blankets to wait for sleep to silence his jostling thoughts. He lay in the darkness for a while, feeling sick and berating himself for his stupidity (how could he have ruined things so quickly? Why couldn't he just hold on to something good for once in his life? Why was he such a coward, so pathetic and afraid?), until the blessed relief of sleep found him at last.

He was woken by the slam of the front door as Dennis arrived home. The luminous numbers of his alarm clock, blurring in his tired vision, said 3:40am. He wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but as soon as he'd opened his eyes the sickening memories of the evening had made his chest tighten again and he knew he wouldn't be so lucky in escaping into sleep now, not with Dennis just a few feet away on the other side of the wall.

"Uh, you wan' an'thing to drink or...?"

Mac sat up. That was Dennis's voice, and it sounded like he had someone with him. 

"Nah. C'mon man, where's your... your room?" came the reply. This person sounded just as wasted as Dennis. It was a man.

Dennis laughed and slurred something Mac didn't catch, and Mac heard the two men stumbling noisily up the stairs.

" _Sshhhhhh_ ," Dennis giggled, "my roommate might be home."

Mac felt like he'd swallowed a cannonball carved from ice. Was Dennis really doing this? In the house, the _bed_ , that they'd shared so passionately? He listened as their heavy footsteps crossed the hallway to Dennis's door, and it closed behind them. Their voices were mercifully muffled now, but Mac could still hear the tone of their murmurs and imagined them fumbling at one another's clothes, pulling each other down onto the bed, pictured the unseen stranger pinning Dennis down and lowering himself on top of him as muscles bulged in his shoulders and back, rushing sloppy kisses in their drunken lust. To his horror, Mac realised that his vivid mental image of them was giving him a hard-on, and he tried to block the thought from his mind. They weren't going to make that easy for him though. Soon he heard grunts and moans, some he recognised as the same sounds he'd drawn from Dennis's throat himself so many times over recent weeks. They had clearly forgotten all attempts to be quiet, and Mac could hear the words as their voices rose.

"Oh... fuck, you're bigger than I... ah!" the stranger was gasping through his teeth as if wincing.

"You'd better get ready, you're going to take it all..." This was Dennis, his voice a low growl that send another rush of blood to harden Mac's dick.

"Yeah I am babe, just go... aah! Go slow!"

Mac laid down again and pulled a pillow over his head, squeezing tight in an attempt to stifle the sound. He didn't want to hear any more, felt like he might throw up if he did. Dennis had never fucked Mac like that, always claiming to prefer taking Mac inside him. Had he assumed Mac wouldn't allow him to top? Had he been frustrated, longing for something he didn't think Mac could give him?

He could almost block out their voices, but now Dennis's bedframe was jolting, bumping against the wall with a pounding rhythm, and Mac could feel each thud right down in his hollow chest. Breathing hard, stomach churning, he gave up on the pillows and jumped out of bed, pulling on a robe. He tried to be quiet as he left his room and headed downstairs, although he supposed he could've set off an air horn and Dennis and his partner wouldn't have noticed anyway. He padded through the kitchen and out to the deck, drawing the sliding glass door shut behind him. He sat on the steps in the same spot he and Dennis had shared on their first night here, and tried to breathe slowly. He didn't want another experience like he'd had after leaving Guigino's. He thought that if he'd actually got as far as eating his meal earlier, he might have been throwing up now. Instead he concentrated on taking deep breaths and watched the sharp grin of the crescent moon lighting the clouds with touches of silver white.


	5. Chapter 5

Mac sat outside for a long time, watching the navy sky lighten shade by shade as dawn approached. The first grey daylight was creeping up over the treetops when the door behind him opened and Dennis came out and sat down on the step beside him. He was wearing a t-shirt and boxers, and goosebumps rippled up his arms in the chill. Without looking at Mac, he lit a cigarette and took a long pull, holding it in for a while before letting the smoke curl out between his lips and rise into the cold morning. Mac felt like he should leave, disappear back inside without a word, but he was here first and he didn't want to move. He looked down at his fidgeting hands and waited for the tense silence to break.

"He's gone." Dennis didn't look at Mac as he spoke. Mac nodded curtly, unsure how he was supposed to respond.

Dennis finished his cigarette without saying anything else. When he'd flicked the butt away over the lawn, he stood up and turned towards the house. As if on an afterthought, he reached his hand down to Mac, offering to help him up. Mac shook his head.

"I think I'll stay here a bit longer," he said. Dennis glanced at him, making eye contact for the first time that morning, then shrugged and went back inside alone.

Dennis switched on the coffee machine and leaned against the counter, arms folded as he waited. He didn't regret bringing Mike (Matt? Tony?) home, regret being one of those things he supposed only happened to other people; he had decided to do it, therefore it had been the right decision. He had been a little disappointed when he heard Mac sneak out of the house before he got to the grand finale, but at least with his audience gone he had been able to cut things short with Tony (Paul?). He'd expected to enjoy it more, really. Not to say that it hadn't been a satisfying fuck - he'd been thinking about it since he first met the guy when he tried to sell him the Range Rover, proving himself truly God-like in managing to get his number even after screaming at him - but for some reason he hadn't wanted to let this almost-stranger inside of him to fill him up the way he loved, and topping was never quite the same thrill. He'd been glad to get rid of the guy, bundling him off home before the stains on the sheets had even begun to dry.

He glanced out through the glass door, watching Mac's motionless back as he huddled on the step. He must have been out there for hours. Dennis had wanted to make him jealous, possessive, provoke him into some kind of action, but all he'd done was sit there. When the coffee was done, he poured two cups and took them outside. He handed one of the steaming coffees to Mac and sat down beside him again.

"Thank you," Mac mumbled.

Dennis chuckled softly, and Mac glanced sideways at him.

"What?" 

"You," Dennis laughed. "I thought you'd be furious, but you're actually more polite than usual."

Mac considered these words. _I thought you'd be furious._ Bringing that guy home hadn't been a regrettable drunken impulse; Dennis hadn't been seeking comfort for his hurt feelings or trying to distract himself with sex. It had been a calculated move, a performance for the sake of proving some kind of point to Mac. He carefully placed his coffee down on the deck beside him and stood up, shifting from one foot to the other and taking a deep breath.

"You wanna go inside, man? It's freezing out here," Dennis said, rising to his feet to stand next to Mac.

There was no warning at all. One minute Mac was fidgeting and avoiding Dennis's gaze - the next his fist was flying out, connecting with Dennis's cheekbone with a meaty thump that sent Dennis sprawling on the wooden boards and made Mac wince over his bruised knuckles.

"You think I'm not fucking furious?" Mac snarled, standing over Dennis and pinning him down with a foot on his shoulder when he tried to sit up. "You think you can play your stupid games with _me?_ "

This was more like it, in Dennis's mind. Admittedly he hadn't anticipated being floored by a right hook - who knew Mac was actually capable of throwing a decent punch? - but at least this was a _reaction_. He shoved Mac's foot away, throwing him off balance, and hopped up while Mac was steadying himself. Mac glowered at him, breathing hard, and Dennis felt a thrill buzz through his stomach. His hands were raised ready to strike back if Mac threw another punch, and he suppressed the urge to grin.

Mac saw the smirk pulling at the corners of Dennis's mouth. For fuck's sake, this was exactly what he wanted. He turned around and stalked back into the house, determined not to play in to this pathetic mind game. Dennis followed close behind.

"Where are you going? You scared?" 

Mac clenched his teeth and kept walking through the kitchen, willing himself not to be drawn in by grade-school taunts.

"Mac! Mac, wait..." Dennis reached out and grabbed Mac's shoulder, pulling him round to face him.

Despite his efforts to be the better man, Mac felt a volcanic surge of rage at the sight of that unbearably smug face. He lashed out at Dennis's face again, this time splitting his recently-healed lip, while his other hand almost simultaneously punched him just below the ribs and knocked the breath out of him. Dennis doubled over, heaving and retching, spitting blood onto the floor tiles. For a moment Mac hesitated - he'd gone too far, he thought, as twenty years of habit screamed at him that he was supposed to look after Dennis. He unconsciously reached for his roommate, acting on this flood of protective instinct, but Dennis quickly recovered enough to launch himself at Mac with a manic laugh that showed his bloodied teeth. His shoulder met Mac's chest and barrelled them both to the ground. Mac was slightly winded by the force with which his body smacked against the tiles, and as he caught his breath Dennis sat up and straddled him, knees pinning Mac's arms to the ground, fists blurring in two quick jabs which caught Mac on the jaw and the nose.

"There," Dennis panted, "we're even now."

"No way are we fucking even," Mac growled thickly, blood beginning to trickle down his face. 

"Okay, maybe not. I know what'll make us even, though." Dennis released Mac and stood up, waiting for Mac to climb up off the floor. Mac got up awkwardly and used the sleeve of his robe to mop up some of the blood streaming from his nose. Dennis leaned in and planted a surprisingly gentle kiss on the corner of Mac's mouth. Mac considered hitting him again, telling himself that the last thing he wanted to do now was make out with this fucking scumbag, but his body betrayed him and he found himself relaxing, his mouth softening from jaw-clenching anger to melt against Dennis's lips. Dennis slipped his hands inside Mac's robe and toyed with the waistband of his boxers, curling his fingers in to tug at the elastic.

"How about it?" he murmured against Mac's mouth. "Can I make it up to you this way?"

Mac kissed him again, long and deep, palms running up over his taut back and coming down to settle against his hips. When their lips parted, they stood leaning into one another, foreheads resting together (what a joy, Dennis thought, to be with someone the same height as him).

"Mmm," a thoughtful hum rumbled from Mac's throat. He grabbed Dennis by the shoulders and spun him round so that his back faced Mac, and pushed him forward against the kitchen worktop. Dennis was taken by surprise, without time to resist. Mac pressed against him, his chest pushing against Dennis's back to bend him forward slightly, hips pinning him against the edge of the counter. He reached up to bury his hand in Dennis's hair, seizing a fistful of curls and yanking them to pull Dennis's head back to that Mac's lips could brush against his ear.

"Maybe," he whispered roughly, " _maybe_ I might be able to forgive you if I make sure you're not gonna be able to walk straight for a week." 

Dennis took a quick hissing breath, electrified with anticipation. With his neck craned back by Mac's hold on his hair, his Adam's apple bulged prominently and Mac could see it bobbing with nerves or excitement. Always one to push the rules, Dennis wriggled experimentally in Mac's grasp and was rewarded with a sharp tug on his hair. He gasped in pain and felt Mac's rock hard dick twitch against his ass. He was a little disappointed when Mac released his grip, but he was just freeing up his hands to drag Dennis's t-shirt up over his head. It was yanked off over his face and thrown to the ground, and then Dennis felt Mac's hands on his boxers, pulling them down and leaving them tangled unceremoniously around his thighs. Dennis's cock was trapped uncomfortably against the counter and he shifted his hips to free it, maybe rolling himself against Mac a little more than necessary in the process. Mac grabbed his hips hard, letting his nails leave welts as he clenched his fists against Dennis's smooth skin.

"You are not in charge here, bitch," he growled, his voice growing hoarse with desire. "Grind your slutty little ass against me again and I'll have to teach you the hard way." Dennis shuddered and sighed, desperate to find out what the hard way entailed, but he behaved for the moment.

Kicking Dennis's ankles aside, Mac made him spread his legs. He clasped a hand around the back of Dennis's neck, bending him over the counter as far as he could, and brought his other hand up to slide two fingers into his own mouth. He sucked them for a long moment and when he slid them out with a wet pop, Dennis tried to crane his head round to see what he was doing. Mac fisted his hand in Dennis's hair again to tug him back into position. With his index and middle finger slicked with spit, he reached down and worked them in between Dennis's cheeks to the expectant little hole that already spasmed in anticipation of his touch.

Dennis gasped as the first finger entered, and let out an unsteady moan as the second quickly joined it, stretching him open just hard enough to hurt. He couldn't help pushing his hips back a little, trying to speed it up more, to intensify the delicious burning tension. Mac responded by scissoring his fingers to spread him wide, making Dennis yelp and wince. Dennis was so hard he ached, and without thinking he reached down to stroke himself, craving the slightest relief. He felt Mac draw his fingers away, and shivered expectantly for his punishment. 

"I told you, you are not in control of this situation. I am in charge here, and _this_..." Mac grabbed Dennis's dick roughly, ignoring the moan this drew from Dennis, "... is mine. How can we keep your dirty little hands away from stuff that belongs to me?" 

He released Dennis's throbbing dick and shrugged off the bathrobe he was still wearing. He pulled the soft belt away from it and dropped the rest of the robe to the ground. Reaching around Dennis's shoulders, he wrapped the makeshift rope tightly around his wrists and secured the other end to a sturdy rail on the wall above the counter, which would have had a roll of kitchen paper on it if they'd ever bought kitchen paper. Mac was trying to be brusque and businesslike, but the sight of Dennis bound and helpless was too much to bear, and he couldn't help kissing a fervent trail down Dennis's neck, over his shoulder and across the bunched muscles of his back. Dennis arched his back against the warm mouth that caressed it, and Mac hummed appreciatively.

As soon as he recovered his ruthless persona, Mac cleared his throat and muttered gruffly:

"Maybe now you'll do as you're told."

Dennis's heart began to race even faster when he heard Mac spitting on his palm. Mac gritted his teeth as he palmed his dick, trying not to jerk himself off while he quickly smeared his shaft with a little saliva. He bit his lips to suppress a moan as he nudged his way inside - Dennis was perfectly tight, just barely stretching to accommodate him. His eyes were closed but he could hear Dennis panting out wordless cries as Mac stretched him and filled him. Mac grasped Dennis's hips again with shaking hands and began to pump against him, hesitantly at first, growing bolder and more rhythmic as Dennis gasped and whined desperately for more.

Dennis braced his tied hands against the wall, almost howling as Mac plunged into him again and again. His knees trembled beneath him and his erection rubbed painfully against the counter with every thrust, but he used all his strength to grind back against Mac, hungrily trying to draw him deeper. Mac felt Dennis clenching around him in wild spasms and knew he couldn't hold out much longer. Clutching Dennis's hips until the porcelain skin was bruised and reddened, he pounded as hard and deep as he could, revelling in the inhuman noises spilling from Dennis's bloodied lips. Mac finally allowed himself to be overcome, and as soon as he stopped trying to hold it off his climax was rolling over him in great shuddering waves. He was not going to give Dennis the satisfaction of hearing Mac scream his name as he often did, so he moaned wordlessly as he came.

When he'd finished and caught his breath, Mac noted with glee that his timing had been perfect. Dennis was on the very edge, rolling and grinding like a bitch in heat, pleading for release. He leaned forward, planting a kiss on Dennis's shoulder, and checked the rope around his wrists. He pulled the knots a little tighter and carefully positioned them so that Dennis wouldn't be able to reach them with his long fingers. Then he slid himself out of Dennis's ass and patted one cheek smugly as Dennis writhed and groaned.

"What are you... please, Mac..." Dennis whimpered.

"You stay there and cool off for a little while. I'm going to take a shower." Mac leaned in alongside Dennis with a wicked grin. "Now we're a bit closer to even, don't you think?"

He chuckled to himself as he left the room without looking back.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been slow going - after the episode came out I realised I couldn't possibly write "No Children" MacDennis any better than RCG already have! I don't want to leave it unfinished though so more is on its way.

The problem with living in the suburbs and fucking your best friend, Mac thought, was that your entire life became tied up in one person. He and Dennis had survived half a lifetime in their old apartment together, but that was when Mac could go blow off steam with Charlie when he needed to, and Dennis could turn to Dee. Stuck out here miles from the gang, the two of them had become the whole world to one another - and this was not necessarily a good thing. They worked together, ate together, relaxed together, slept together. If anyone had asked Mac a few months ago, he would have said this constant closeness would make him happy. Now he was coming to realise that this assumption would have been a mistake.

Dennis was also feeling the strain. He had always been a great believer in the benefits of sex for lowering stress, but he had found this to be less effective when the person you're fucking is also the reason you're stressed. Sex with Mac had become an act of combat, raking nails against skin, sinking teeth into flesh, tearing into one another with savage ferocity; the bruises and scrapes, once reminders of burning lust, were now borne like war wounds.

The problem with pushing each other to breaking point was, neither of them seemed to have one.

~

"Dennis! You've been in there for 45 minutes!" Mac yelled outside the bathroom door as the shower continued to run.

"Fuck off!" came Dennis's muffled reply.

Mac was not planning to go to work with bed hair just because Dennis had decided to be a bitch. He pushed his shoulder against the door, throwing his whole weight behind it, and felt the bolt on the other side give way a little. He rammed the door again and the bolt snapped free with a crack. 

Dennis peered out around the side of the shower curtain.

"What the fuck? Did you just break the door down? What is wrong with you?" 

"I need to be at work in an hour and I'm not going without a shower." Mac stripped off, unceremoniously hopping out of his underwear. "Move over."

He climbed in, jostling aside a protesting Dennis, and started to wash hastily. He felt Dennis's hands slide around his waist, his warm mouth soft against Mac's shoulder.

"Not gonna work, dude. You're not making me late again." Mac had promised Charlie he'd be on time after his last late arrival; the bar had received two customers before noon and Charlie had been stuck on his own tending bar for this unexpected rush. He shifted away from Dennis's arms and scrubbed shampoo into his hair.

"Fuck you then," muttered Dennis as he rinsed out the last traces of his conditioner and climbed out of the shower. He wrapped himself in a towel and paused to turn on the water at the sink before wandering back to his room, smirking gleefully when Mac shrieked under the suddenly icy shower.

Mac arrived at Paddy's irritated but on time, looking forward to spending some time with Charlie while Dennis stayed home.

"Morning Charlie, how's it going? Oh... hi, Dee." Mac cursed inwardly. He'd thought Dee was on the late shift today. It wasn't that he was avoiding her as such, but she reminded him of Dennis in all the most enraging ways without being remotely hot enough to make up for it. Having her around was basically like hanging out with a less fun, less sexy version of Dennis. Charlie clearly thought differently, of course - Mac had not failed to notice that the two of them were spending more time together now that he and Dennis weren't around as much - but the kid always did have weird tastes.

Charlie turned to greet Mac, swinging his rat-bashing stick over his shoulder as he did so and narrowly avoiding the face of an old man sitting at the bar. The startled customer took his drink and hurried over to the safety of a booth as Charlie grinned obliviously.

"Hey Mac, how's it going man?"

"Not bad, dude. Dennis is being a dickhead but what else is new?"

"Dude, have you considered maybe moving out or something? I mean, you're welcome to come stay with me and Frank if you want. Just to get some space from Dennis."

"And share a futon with two dirty little men? No thanks. Besides, I can handle Dennis. I'm used to it."

"Maybe Dennis needs a break too," Dee interjected. "He had a black eye again last time I saw him - you guys are always beating the shit out of each other."

"Dennis is fine, Dee. And so am I."

Charlie shrugged and stowed the rat-basher under the bar with a clatter. "Alright man, but when one of you turns up dead don't say I didn't try to help."

"We're fine, Charlie. Stop trying to save us from each other."

Charlie and Dee glanced at each other and said nothing, and Mac headed for the back office to escape their judgement. 

Back at the house, Dennis was not having a good day. Last night he had put his arms around Mac, kissing him and murmuring unspeakable things against his skin, and Mac had politely extricated himself from Dennis's arms and gone upstairs to sleep in his own bed alone. This had bothered Dennis so much that he spent ages examining himself in the bathroom mirror that morning, trying to identify the physical decline that had turned Mac off him. He'd stood on the scales again and again, trying to work out if they were giving the wrong reading, if he'd actually gained ten pounds and the scales were lying when they told him he weighed the same as before. He'd climbed into a scalding shower and scrubbed himself pink and raw in case there was some kind of repellent coating his skin and finally, when Mac burst in and joined him, he'd made another advance and been rejected again.

He had decided to spend his day off cleaning and making the house nice, but the ball of panicked self-loathing in his gut weighed him down and sapped his energy and he kept finding himself grinding to a halt like a toy with flat batteries, staring blankly into space until he remembered what he was meant to be doing. He thought about dousing the house in kerosene, dropping a match and letting the whole place burn to the ground while he took to the road, just a solitary man and his Range Rover living off the grid - or he could curl up in his bed, let the smoke curl sweetly into his lungs, drift into a dreamless sleep as the flames glowed at the edges of his vision. Eventually he decided that even without the fire, sleep was an appealing escape route from the hamster wheel of his thoughts. He stretched out on his bed, fully dressed and on top of the blankets, and was fast asleep when Mac got home from work.

"Dennis?"

Mac peered into Dennis's room and saw him curled up on his side, arms tucked tightly against his chest, lips parted softly with the slow and even breaths of deep sleep. He couldn't help smiling a little, his heart swelling for a moment with protective warmth. He had been avoiding Dennis's advances for the last couple days in an attempt to win back some control, to prove that Dennis couldn't win every argument simply by distracting Mac with sex. He wasn't even sure if Dennis had really noticed, but now he decided that he'd probably gone long enough - he wasn't sure he could withstand another lingering kiss without caving in - and this seemed like the perfect moment to break his brief abstinence without giving Dennis the control. Moving as quietly as possible, he crept across the room and climbed onto the bed, taking Dennis in his arms and settling against him with a low hum.

Dennis nestled into Mac's chest for a moment before waking fully and pulling away. He sat up cross-legged on the mattress and glared at Mac.

"So now you've decided you want me after all?" His voice was cold and accusing.

"I always want you, Dennis. You have no idea how hard it was to walk away from you last night." Mac examined Dennis's hollow face for a moment. "Dude, have you been stressing out about this all day?"

Dennis barked out a shrill scornful laugh. "Of course not. Why would I waste my time on something like that?" He took a deep, shuddering breath and Mac gave him another long stare before sighing and shaking his head.

"Okay man, whatever. Come here." He pulled Dennis down onto the pillows and kissed him long and hard.

For the first time in weeks they treated one another's bodies gently, fucking like a couple who actually liked each other.


	7. Chapter 7

Over the last 20 years, Dennis had often imagined what it would be like when Mac finally stopped lying to himself and let Dennis fuck him. He had expected Mac to be clingy and stifling, following Dennis around with those mournful puppy eyes and showering him with declarations of love and adoring gestures. While he hadn't been entirely wrong - Mac could definitely be frustratingly needy sometimes - once the initial novelty of their evolved relationship had passed he had been surprised to find that Mac was actually much more reserved than he'd expected, and often withdrew to enjoy a little space. This was extremely annoying to Dennis, especially as he found himself craving Mac's affection every time they were apart for more than an hour or so. He wanted to wrap himself around Mac like a koala, to cling to him and let the even rhythm of Mac's heart lull him to sleep, to press his whole body into Mac until his bones found their way inside Mac's skin and they became one perfect being. Dennis had never been the clingy one before, and he did not enjoy the feeling. His need for Mac was more overpowering than the craving he felt at the sight of a crack pipe, and it plagued him constantly.

The worst thing about his embarrassing neediness was that Mac knew, and used it against him when they fought, like after their first real fight when he'd left Dennis in the kitchen bound and begging. He'd known that little stunt would do more than just make Dennis burn with frustration - he'd wanted to shake the foundations of Dennis's assumptions about himself and his bulletproof emotions, and Dennis cringed to think of how well it had worked. 

One night Mac and Dennis were watching a movie together, trying to relax after a wearing day of sniping at each other. Mac had chosen The Bourne Identity, and Dennis had groaned in weary anticipation of having to spend the entire movie explaining the plot to him. But when they were settled on the sofa together, Dennis curled against Mac's side as Mac drew him in with an arm around his shoulders and rested his head on top of Dennis's curls, it was the most peaceful they'd been all day.

"I was never that impressed by Matt Damon, but he's in good shape for this isn't he?" Mac mused. "Good definition."

"You're allowed to say he's hot, you know. You can say you want to fuck him. In fact," Dennis purred, raising his head to place his lips against Mac's ear, "you can tell me exactly how you'd fuck him. Would you be a little slut for him? What would you let him do to you?" He placed his hand on the inside of Mac's thigh and grinned up at him.

"Why would I say that? I don't want to fuck him. I'm not gay, Dennis."

Dennis sprang back and stared at Mac in frank disbelief.

"Not gay? Mac, you sucked me off in the shower this morning!"

"That was you. You're different. You can't call someone a vegetarian just because they like carrots." Mac wasn't lying, Dennis realised. He had obviously thought about this, and was explaining himself with the sincerity of someone who genuinely believes what they're saying. Dennis marvelled at his self-deception - he must have had to perform some serious mental gymnastics to deal with this kind of doublethink.

"So in this analogy, you'd be bisexual?" Dennis probed.

"No, dude! That's basically the same as gay!"

Dennis resisted the impulse to rant and yell, and instead pressed on: "But if someone likes carrots but they're not a vegetarian, then they're an omnivore. Someone who likes both. You're saying you like women and men."

"I don't like men!"

"You like me!"

Mac glared at him for a moment as if to refute this claim, then lowered his eyes. "You're not 'men'. You're an exception. You're... Dennis."

Dennis tried to wrap his head around this. He imagined himself as a genderless entity floating in a void, unencumbered by physical form, like a spirit or a god. It was a pleasant idea. He nestled himself back under Mac's arm and returned his attention to the movie. After a while Mac's hand rose to toy with Dennis's hair, ruffling it between his fingers and smoothing it back down. The film was halfway through by the time Dennis felt Mac's tight chest relax against him again.

The months rolled by in their never-ending carousel of lust and rage. They fought like animals and fucked like animals. Dennis once gathered enough resolve to leave and spend a night in a hotel, another time Mac went to stay with Charlie, but one night apart was always enough to bring them back broken and begging, junkies for each other as always. Dee and Charlie were spending more time with each other and less time with Mac and Dennis, distancing themselves from the train wreck playing out before their eyes, but Mac and Dennis didn't care. They had each other, and the rest of the world could burn for all they cared. Christmas came and went in a strange blur of sweetness and spite, and they threw a New Year's party at Paddy's where Mac and Dennis had a screaming row and spent the countdown to midnight trying drunkenly to beat the shit out of each other in the alley, pausing for a sloppy breathless kiss as the clock struck twelve.

A few weeks into the new year, Dennis was woken by Mac wrapping strong arms around his waist from behind as soft kisses pressed against his neck. 

"Morning babe," Mac murmured into his ear.

Dennis rolled over in Mac's arms and kissed his mouth lazily.

"Morning," he smiled when they parted.

"Happy anniversary," Mac grinned.

"Huh?"

"We've lived here for a year today. I just checked the date on the deeds. We made it a whole year in the suburbs without killing each other or getting either of us arrested."

Dennis grinned back. "Well that's got to be something worth celebrating."

They took their time celebrating before finally getting out of bed and showering. When they were dressed they went downstairs and made coffee, taking it outside onto the deck. Dennis lit a cigarette, exhaling a long stream of smoke that mingled with the steam of his breath clouding the frosty morning air.

"Let's go out tonight" he suggested, glancing over at Mac. They had taken to having their monthly dinners at home, having been asked to leave Guigino's on several occasions when their arguments got out of hand.

"Yeah, we could..." Mac hedged thoughtfully. Dennis narrowed his eyes and waited for the other shoe to drop. "Or... we could order takeout, rent a movie..."

Dennis knew exactly why Mac didn't want to go out - it was the same reason they always fought during their monthly dinners. Mac still couldn't bring himself to do anything that might make them look like a couple in public. He wouldn't so much as brush his hand against Dennis's if someone was looking in their direction. Dennis didn't mind this so much when they were around the gang at Paddy's - they all knew about Mac and Dennis, and this must have been obvious to Mac, but everyone played along and avoided the subject rather than deal with a tiresome gay crisis - but when they were among strangers who had no reason to take any interest in their lives Dennis didn't see why Mac should have such a problem. 'We're never going to see any of these people again, who cares what they think?' he would say, trying to take Mac's hand, and Mac would pull away and shake his head in wordless panic.

He turned to face Mac, who was picking at a splinter on the railing and avoiding eye contact.

"Please, Mac. It's been a hell of a year, and half the time I could have happily murdered you," Dennis's fingers curled reflexively as if around an invisible throat, "but I wouldn't change a thing, not one second of it. Let me show you off, baby. I wanna make everyone so jealous."

Mac drew a breath and opened his mouth to say something, then closed his mouth and let the breath hiss away. He rubbed both hands over his face wearily.

"I want to, Den," he said softly. "I really do. I just... I'm not..." _Not brave enough. Not strong enough. Not man enough._

"How about if we go somewhere new? Screw Guigino's, that place is shit anyway. Let's go all the way across town to some place we've never been before, and will never go again. We'll just be one more couple in the crowd, nobody'll look twice."

Mac thought for a long moment, and finally nodded. "Okay."

Dennis smiled and pulled Mac towards him. Their lips were cold and their mouths tasted like coffee and cigarettes, and they fit together perfectly like two shards of broken glass, jagged points and slicing edges pressed into one smooth surface.

They picked a small restaurant on the opposite side of the city. From its website it looked like a cool modern place where Dennis hoped they might be less likely to encounter anyone hostile - the last thing they needed was to be accosted by homophobes on their first proper date. Mac raided Dennis's wardrobe and borrowed a dark blue button-down shirt with long sleeves which he rolled up to his elbows - forty years old and he'd finally got the hang of dressing like a grown-up - and Dennis decided to class up his white shirt and jeans with a charcoal grey waistcoat.

It took a couple of hours to drive across town, and Mac perched stiffly on the Range Rover's passenger seat looking like a condemned man heading for the gallows.

"Relax, baby." Dennis reached over to place a reassuring hand on Mac's thigh. "We're meant to be celebrating, remember? We're going to have fun."

They finally arrived at the restaurant and parked the car. Dennis was concentrating on being as laid back as possible, willing himself not to get angry if Mac changed his mind. He hated the sudden sick feeling that flared in his gut when Mac pulled away from him - it felt like rejection, which felt like being kicked in the stomach as the ground dropped away beneath his feet - but he was determined to behave nicely and let Mac take things slowly today. He was surprised, then, when Mac reached out and grabbed his hand as they approached the entrance. Mac's palm was clammy and his grip was iron tight, and he held on grimly as the maitre d' showed them to their table and took their drinks order.

"You guys celebrating something special tonight?" she asked brightly, looking from one to the other. Dennis opened his mouth to respond, but Mac got there first.

"It's our anniversary. One year today." He smiled at Dennis and gave his hand a squeeze. The smile was a little rigid, thin-lipped and anxious, but his eyes were warm and his thumb rubbed idly across the back of Dennis's hand. Dennis grinned widely.

"First anniversary? Congratulations!" the hostess smiled, and she disappeared to fetch their drinks. Dennis leaned towards Mac and spoke softly:

"Way to go, baby boy! Isn't this great? We can just be us, no sneaking, no hiding." 

"It is nice to feel... honest," Mac said slowly. "It's kind of scary, and I do feel a little bit like we might get struck by lightning or something," he half-laughed, and Dennis considered that this was the first time he'd ever heard Mac tell a slightly self-deprecating joke, "but I like it. I want people to see that I love you."

There was a long silence. The background noise of the restaurant seemed muffled, and Mac wasn't sure he was even breathing. _Shit. I said it._ Neither of them had ever spoken those words before (Mac decided near-death experiences at the hands of the McPoyles didn't count). Mac had felt them spring to his lips before, usually when Dennis was doing something divine to make electric ecstasy fizz through his body, but he'd always managed to bite them back before they burst out. He examined Dennis's face, but it was inscrutable. He wasn't smiling, but he didn't look angry. Mac almost flinched when Dennis rose slightly out of his chair and leaned forward across the table. His lips brushed against Mac's ear as he murmured,

"Let's show them. I want everyone to know that I love you, too." 

If anyone was watching when they kissed, Mac and Dennis didn't notice. Wrapped up in each other as always, the rest of the world was nothing more than white noise. 

There would be more anniversaries to come, more kisses in public and in private, more bruises, more yelling, more quiet coffees on the deck and more blood spilled. Mac and Dennis would destroy and rebuild one another in a thousand different ways; drowning together, pulling each other under and then giving their last breaths to one another. They would tear through life together as a force of nature, a natural disaster, and they would never be saved from each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About 10,000 more words than anticipated and it's finally done! I feel like I should add a disclaimer: I am aware that I've invested all this time in writing a completely and unforgivably abusive relationship, and I don't want anyone to think that I condone any kind of unhealthy shit like this irl. Seriously, if you're ever in a relationship that feels like it could be compared to macdennis, GTFO and run far away. Abusive relationships are not romantic, ever, and should never be inflicted on anyone except totally fictional characters who don't have feelings because they're, you know, fictional. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope this long-ass story has entertained some people. Feedback is always very much appreciated! Lots of love x


End file.
